Nail art – it just gets better. April Long goes behind the scenes at fashion week to put the hottest polishes and designs at your fingertips.

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New York's fall 2013 fashion shows are in full swing—as is a walloping blizzard—and I'm hunched over a low table in a hotel room, shakily attempting to adhere garnet-red Swarovski crystals to a synthetic fingernail with the tip of a slim wooden stick. So far, not so good: I've dropped more crystals in my lap than I have on my target. Embarrassing—especially with Kristina Estabrooks, the ultratalented international education manager for CND (Creative Nail Design), standing right behind me, evaluating whether or not my creation might pass muster to grace a model's finger the following night. The sense of urgency is almost palpable here at the CND Design Lab, the war room with an arts-and-crafts-party vibe where a crack team of nail pros gather every season on the eve of the shows to painstakingly fabricate custom digit decor to complement designers' collections. With more than 400 custom nails still to be produced for the rock 'n' roll design duo the Blonds' runway show alone (every model will wear a unique design, and a set of 22 must be made of each), you'd think they'd take all the help they could get. But as Estabrooks leans in to get a closer look at my handiwork, her expression says it all: My nail is a fail.

Disappointing, yes, but no surprise. I am what you might consider a nail-art-phobe: I've never worn any polish that wasn't either solid red or clear, and the notion of introducing so much as a polka dot to my plain-Jane fingertips makes me feel as uncomfortable as would wearing some kind of Princess Beatrice–esque hat. Worse, receiving a proper manicure makes me feel like I'm in a hostage situation, so I usually paint my nails myself (skill level: preschool), then walk around with chips and ragged cuticles, looking like I've just clawed my way out of a grave. I may be a beauty editor, but nails are my Achilles' heel.

The tricked-out-talon trend has become officially unignorable, however—and my lack of participation has begun to make me feel decidedly uncool. The phenomenon's ascendancy is not dissimilar to that of tattoos in the '90s: At first, it was just something your hairdresser/bartender/musician friend was into; then the next thing you knew, your mom was getting inked. And now, suddenly, there's nothing too weird or unwieldy to affix to a nail: Spend two minutes on Instagram, Pinterest, or Tumblr and you'll see rock-encrusted and silky-soft-fur-coated tips; pinkies adorned with eyeballs and covered in AstroTurf; thumbs painted to resemble the aurora borealis, a DVF wrapdress, or Ryan Gosling's face. Drugstore shelves are teeming with wraps, stickers, appliqués, and kits containing glue-on trinkets. It's as if everyone collectively realized that they had been carrying around 10 blank-slate opportunities to accessorize—and then just went nuts. It's time I got comfortable with it.

Working on fashion-week fingers isn't just the scariest, highest-pressure way for me to immerse myself in nail design, it's also the most logical: Artists from the likes of CND, Sally Hansen, Jin Soon, and Deborah Lippmann have made nail art a mainstay of the catwalk over the past several seasons with increasingly fun, envelope-pushing creations. The CND artists—who have been at the forefront, working backstage at the shows for 17 years and creating prefab nails on-site for more than a decade—also have a new innovation to play with. This month, the company is launching Vinylux Weekly Polish System, a quick-drying seven-day salon-only service, the topcoat of which becomes more durable with exposure to natural light, rather than requiring UV curing à la Shellac. (Removal is also easy—it comes off with acetone, no soaking or wrapping.) Estabrooks demonstrates how they're using it for the Alexander Wang show, applying a beige called Impossibly Plush with a fan brush to create a slightly timeworn effect. In the end, the nails read as a sort of nuanced neutral—you'd never guess the hours of work that went into them—and some of the models either wear gloves or walk with their hands in their pockets at the actual show. But I know what went on, and I'm impressed.

For me, the real test comes backstage just before the Blonds' presentation, which is, appropriately, classic-horror themed. The nails (which the CND team completed just hours before) include talons made to look like butcher knives, padded cells, and dripping blood, plus one set with 8,000 Swarovski crystals (not counting the ones that ended up in my shoes). Now the not-so-easy task is to apply the finished designs to the mitts of the models, who are done up like towering Tippi Hedrens, in platinum wigs, vivid orange eye shadow, and black cat-eye liner. The nails have to be sized to match each model's individual nail beds, adhered carefully so that they sit naturally at the cuticle, and shaped with a file, all while the hair and makeup teams are busy coiffing, spritzing, and painting; to approach, I kind of have to sneak in like a bandit and stay low. I introduce myself to the model I'm working on, but her face is obscured by someone trying to position her wig, so she merely extends an elegant, long-fingered hand. I'm okay at the nail sizing, but it turns out that upside-down filing is not my forte—a worried CND pro has to step in lest I wreak irreparable damage. The set I'm assigned to apply is etched with the words bates motel—so if one of those is found lying on the floor, I realize, it will be like a finger (or, well, a fragment thereof) pointing directly at yours truly.

Thankfully, the nails stick, as does something even more surprising: a newfound appreciation for nail art. Not only did I find the meticulous stuff really fun (and, despite the circumstances, weirdly relaxing), I also can't help but regard what goes into creating these tiny masterpieces with awe and respect—whether it's done by backstage dynamo pros or at-home hobbyists. While I still think I'm too innately conservative to sport anything more razzle-dazzle than glittery gold polish, I'm beginning to suspect that maybe someday I could rock a stripe, and I'm loving the French manicures with colored tips that promise to be summer's hot ticket. To help me dream bigger, there's a new Sally Hansen app, I ♥ Nails (launching this month), which allows me to take a photo of my hand, then draw on and paint my virtual nails to my heart's content, using an array of Photoshop-esque tools. (I can even match my on-screen nail color to photos I've taken—for example, the fuchsia orchid on my desk, a hamburger, my dog's ears—enabling me to be the kind of claw chameleon I'd never be in real life.) And for when I need something a bit more concrete, my rejected red Swarovski nail still sits next to my computer in a little velvet-lined box. Sometimes I stick it on, just for kicks. It's a little sad, like a lost ruby slipper, but I'm proud of it just the same.